The best reality
by B.RedBlade
Summary: Isobel was raised in Silent Hill, and after a small taste of reality, she wants to go back! Little did she know some idiot from school was going to follow her. Now she has to help him cross his own personal hell so she can get rid of him. Luckily, she has a child-hood friend to help her out, and, of course, good old Pyramid Head. Story is AU, with three OC's and Pyramid Head OOC.
1. Chapter 1

Not to readers: Hard-core fans of Silent Hill will probably hate this. I took some characters from Silent Hill games and threw them in here- they don't fit the original Silent Hill storyline. Pyramid Head is TOTALLY out of character, and the main character is going to seem random and insensitive-that's the point. (She was raised in Silent Hill!) Also, this is going in a folder and not getting updated unless people want to read more. I don't own Silent Hill, or Disney.

Adventure in a horror background with just a touch of romance.

That's all your warnings. Enjoy.

* * *

A woman sat in the middle of the decrepit motel room and chanted over the red pentagram at her feet. There was urgency in her voice that she was trying to force away, as it made her stumble over the words.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, the pentagram began to glow, and the woman sat back, whipping the sweat from her brow.

"Mommy?" a little girl wandered over to her mother from the bed where she'd been sleeping and rubbed her eyes.

The woman smiled at her child, "Morning, sunshine," she said, lifting her little one into the air. The girl giggled and the mother smiled in relief. They'd be in his domain soon; they'd be safe.

This was when the mother heard footsteps in the hallway.

The blood drained from her face and her smile was gone, "Isobel," she said urgently, "Get in the closet! Now!"

She placed Isobel on the floor and shoved a chair under the locked door. _Come on_, she thought, glaring at the pentagram_, almost there_.

Isobel hid in the closet and watched as something heavy was thrown at the door. It rattled, and mommy jumped.

The heavy thing was thrown again and the door splintered. One more blow and the door was off its hinges, being thrown to the side. A man walked into the room, kicking the chair away as he did.

"Hello, Heather," the man snarled at mommy, "Where is she?"

Mommy shook her head, "You can't have her, Vincent. She's mine."

"She's mine as well," the man said. He reminded Isobel of a rat. "Where?!"

Mommy shook her head and the man stormed over. He grabbed her by the throat and threw her against a wall with force that made the room shake. They were out of Isobel's view now, and Isobel was shaking. Would mommy be okay?

Isobel couldn't see her mommy choke as the man squeezed. "Where?" he hissed.

The room began to change around them. Heather saw spots dance in front of her eyes. The electricity flickered out and a fog swept into the room, sending a damp chill to everything it touched. The smells of mildew and rust permeated the air. Heather grinned, and with her final breath, she coughed out, "You're too late."

With one final squeeze, Vincent crushed her throat completely, and she was dead.

Isobel heard mommy coughed, and ran out of the closet. "Mommy!" she cried, as she ran to her mother. Tears ran down her face. Was mommy sleeping? Why were her eyes open?

Isobel felt large hands around her waist as the man picked her up and carried her towards the door, away from mommy. "No!" Isobel shrieked, fighting with all of her three-year old strength.

"Stop squirming, you little brat! Is that any way to treat your father?" the man snarled.

Isobel ignored him. She'd seen fathers. They were the men that took their kids to the park and taught them to play baseball, or got them ice cream, or tied their shoes. Mommy had done all of that. Isobel didn't have a father.

The man's grip tightened until it was really painful. Isobel began to cry

The man was carrying her down the hallway when something grabbed the man's collar. The man dropped Isobel and she took off back to the room where mommy was. She heard a scream in the hallway, followed by something that sounded like paper tearing, but she ignored it.

"Mommy," Isobel said, kneeling by her mother. "Wake up." Some part of her knew her mommy was gone, but she didn't want to believe it. She pushed her shoulder, poked her tummy. Mommy wouldn't look at her; she just kept staring at the ceiling.

Isobel heard large footsteps in the hallway, and hid behind the bed, hoping the mean guy wouldn't come back. Isobel watched as a large man in a skirt and a giant triangular mask made his way into the room. He carried a sword as tall as he was that needed to be dragged on the floor.

The man stabbed his sword into the ground by mommy, and fell to his knees next to it. He reached up to mommy's face and gently closed her eyes. He stayed there, head bent, shoulders hunched. After a moment, he scooped mommy up and carried her in his arms out of the room.

Isobel followed the man at a safe distance. The man walked down the hallways and out to the streets. Isobel had to walk a bit closer, because the fog out here was much thicker. The air was completely silent, as if the fog was sound-proof. The man's steps were halting and dragged, as if mommy weighed much more than she did. He went to a graveyard, where there was a stack of empty coffins. He pulled one off the top, and gently placed mommy inside. He reached inside, and Isobel couldn't see what he was doing.

Isobel heard a hiss behind her, and turned around. There, less than a foot away, was a scary old woman. She looked decayed, and her dressed was ripped and matted with grime. The woman raised a hand, with three needle-like claws jutting out, and took a clumsy swipe at Isobel. Isobel yelped in fear and tripped on her own feet in an attempt to get away. She scrambled back on her hands and felt her back press up against the fence of the graveyard. The woman took another step towards her, and Isobel was trapped.

Isobel heard the sickening crack before she saw that the man had taken the woman's head and shoved it into the ground in a swift motion. The woman didn't squirm. The man turned back to look at Isobel, who cringed in fear. When the man reached for her, she whimpered and tears streaked out of her eyes. Nothing happened. Isobel opened her eyes to see the man holding out a hand to her. She took it tentatively and he tugged her to her feet. They walked hand-in-hand to the coffin where the man lifted her up so she could see mommy. The man had arranged mommy's hands over her chest, and tugged her collar up around her ruined neck. She looked like she could be sleeping.

"Goodbye, mommy," Isobel said, patting her on the shoulder.

The man gently placed Isobel on the ground and tugged a lid over the coffin. He lifted it with ease and took it to the edge of the broken street. He pushed it over, and heard the splash as it hit the sea. When he came back, the girl was still standing by the coffins. This was Heather's daughter. He knew, without a doubt, it was his job to protect her. He swore then and there, that even though he'd failed his duty to keep Heather safe, he'd do everything in his power to keep her daughter from harm.

He kneeled down to eye-level with the girl, and scratched out in the dirt by her feet: 'What's your name?'

Isobel loved to read, and it only took her a minute to decipher the words, "Isobel," she said. "What's yours?"

'Pyramid Head,' he drew.

Isobel scrunched up her nose, "That's not a very nice name," she said, "I'll have to think of a better one for you."

* * *

_14 years later_

Isobel tried not to tear her hair out at the sounds around her. There was the bashing of drums, the screams of children, too many people speaking, and a loud voice saying, "Welcome to the happiest place on earth!"

_Oh god!_ This just made her want to throw up. Isobel tried to find somewhere to look that didn't have migraine-inducing colors painted on it or a fury creature hugging children. She tried to look up, but the sunlight hurt her eyes. Looking down, all she saw was cheerful patterns carved onto the street.

Isobel clutched her stomach as it churned. Why had she agreed to come to the amusement park with her class? When an over-sized rabbit hopped past holding hands with a dog, Isobel wished she had Robbie with her. These people would hate Robbie.

Derek watched her turn green, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

Isobel shrugged him off. "I'm fine," she grumbled, stumbling to the nearest women's room. Why did Derek always feel the need to stick his nose in her business? He was always with her at school, offering to carry her bags or pay for her lunch. At first she thought he wanted something, but now she was just getting annoyed. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

Isobel stared in the mirror until her stomach calmed. She glanced at the door and the thought of going back into that hell made her sick again. She had a sudden idea. Isobel carefully checked every stall, and, seeing as the small bathroom was empty, she dragged a heavy trash can in front of the door. Next, she withdrew a sowing kit out of her bag and pricked a finger with a needle. She drew a Halo of the Sun on the mirror in her blood and said the 'prayer' (more like a chant) that would take her back home.

_Yes! _She thought, as the lights began to flicker and the walls began to shift. Isobel was about to close her eyes and wait for it to take her back when she heard a banging by the door. Derek was in the room. "Just checking on…"he faded off as he realized the room was moving.

"Crap!" she shrieked. _What the hell kind of idiot follows a girl into a woman's restroom?! "Get out!" _she hissed, but it was too late. They weren't standing in the same bathroom anymore. They were in the hospital bathroom at Shepherd's Glen.

Isobel's shoulders sagged when she heard the sounds of life outside the door. The spell hadn't worked; she was supposed to be in the fog world. "Stupid idiot!" she glared at Derek (who looked like he'd been hit in the head), and pushed past him to the door.

She glanced around, and, seeing as the lit hallway was currently empty, Isobel walked quickly out the front entrance. It was night here, so the one nurse on front desk duty was asleep. Shepherd's Glen was a pretty quiet town (ironically) so no one was really awake to spot Isobel as she slipped out of the hospital and headed down the street. No one saw Derek stumble out behind her and run to catch up with her either.

"W-where are we?" he stuttered, staring at every building they passed as if he'd never seen one before.

"_I_ am going home. _You_ are trespassing in Shepherd's Glen," Isobel shot a glare back at Derek. "Just hope the Sheriff doesn't find you."

Derek was asking questions every few seconds but Isobel wasn't listening. He wasn't waiting for answers anyway.

Finally, Isobel found the house she was looking for and climbed up a lattice to a second story window. A glance through told her that her friend hadn't moved. Video game posters and bookshelves lined the walls. Isobel knocked on the glass. A distinct rhythm: three taps, then a scratch, then three more taps.

After what seemed like a century, the window was lifted. "Isobel?" a young man was rubbing an eye under his glasses and staring at her.

Isobel grinned, "Hello, Philip. Been a long time."

"I thought you left?" Philip was very drowsy, and sure he was dreaming.

"Had to come back- reality is just too stressful," Isobel said, "speaking of which, I was hoping you could take me back to my favorite dimension?"

Philip's eyes narrowed, and he ushered her through the window. It was when he went to close it that he saw Derek outside on the street, looking like a lost puppy.

"Who's the outsider?" he asked Isobel, who had taken up residence on his floor and was reading one of his books.

"His name's Derek. He followed me. You want him? I'm really getting sick of him," Isobel replied bitterly.

Philip ushered Derek up; he knew that Isobel could be impulsive and cold without meaning to.

Philip shook Derek's hand and welcomed him into the room. Derek sat next to Isobel, who rolled her eyes.

Philip set a pre-drawn pentagram on his floor, and sifted through his shelves, finding the prayer book stolen from his father easily enough.

He began to light candles and Isobel asked, "Parents at the church?"

Philip nodded, "Working late tonight, so they claim."

When the candles were all lit, Isobel said, "You're going to want some better clothes than that."

Philip was thankful for the dim light because he blushed when he realized he was in boxers and a T-shirt."Sorry," he mumbled, tugging on cargos and a sweatshirt, "Wasn't expecting company."

Isobel waved him off and continued to read. Of course. They'd been friends since kindergarten, so why would she care?

Philip pulled on a pair of hiking boots, and asked, "Ready?"

Isobel nodded eagerly, and Derek sat there, looking stupid as ever.

Isobel and Philip clasped one of Derek's wrists each, and then each other's. Isobel could have brought herself over with a small blood sacrifice, but she didn't have the power to bring over three people. On top of being born here, both of Philip's parents were priests: there were very few spells he couldn't pull off.

Isobel closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic chanting of Philip's voice. She felt the ground shift slightly, and her eyes popped open. The candles were out, the books and posters were gone, and there was a cold mist hanging in the air. _Yes!_

"Thank you! Thank You!" Isobel gave Philip a quick hug, then ran down-stairs and out the front door. Down the steps, left down the street, past the church, to the library….

This was where she always found him, providing he wasn't killing monsters or fighting outsiders. Through the front doors. Yup; sure enough, Pyramid Head was staring at an artifact in a glass case. Some sort of white seal with red writing.

Isobel ran to him and jumped into his arms. "Daddy!" she squealed, "I'm home!"


	2. Chapter 2

Pyramid Head put Isobel on the floor and signed out 'what are you doing here?'

"I missed you Daddy!" Isobel said, "Turns out 17 isn't actually the adult age in the outside. It's eighteen. They made me go to school." Isobel stuck her tongue out. "It was awful!"

Derek ran into the library, and stopped short at the sight of Pyramid Head. Philip walked in slowly behind him, still drowsy. "Hello, sir," he said, nodding to Pyramid head, "Nice to see you."

Derek backed up to the door, shaking and pale. Pyramid head pushed Isobel behind him and leveled his sword at Derek.

"He's not dangerous," Isobel said from behind Pyramid head, crossing her arms, "He's just annoying. Followed me here from the outside."

Pyramid head whirled around to face Isobel, 'Why did you bring him to this world?! Isobel, now you can't go back until he's faced his demons!'

The color drained from Isobel's face, and she dropped her arms. "Philip," she said, looking past her Daddy, "Does Derek have to cross Silent Hill to get back to reality?"

Philip's jaw dropped. How had he forgotten that? He rubbed his eyes under his cracked glasses. He was exhausted, that's how. "I…I think so."

Isobel's shock turned to rage, "You _think_ so?! Why didn't you warn me?" Isobel took a step forward, but Pyramid Head placed a hand on her shoulder.

'You need to get supplies before the monsters begin to spawn,' he signed, 'I'll cover the front entrance. You remember what I taught you?'

Isobel gave a weak smile and nodded. She came all the way here to see him, and hated to leave him, but he was right.

Derek, who'd been silent this whole time, jumped as something slammed against the door he was pressed against. Isobel led the way up the library stairs as Pyramid head took a position in front of the doors.

Philip followed suit and motioned for Derek to follow, which he did, wordlessly.

There was a room nearly hidden behind a bookshelf on the second floor. It was the size of a walk-in closet and there was a trapdoor on the back of the wood floor. Isobel closed the door and pulled the chain above them to allow a single bare bulb to illuminate the space. Philip was standing uncomfortably close, but she didn't really notice. Derek was spacing out. She guessed it was a lot to take in for being in this world maybe an hour. Isobel began to pull supplies from the shelves; energy bars, coins, flashlights (which she handed out), and, of course, weapons.

She took down a nine millimeter hand-gun that held fifteen rounds and strapped the holster to her belt. She took a fifty count box of ammo with her; she'd load it when they were somewhere else. She also grabbed a collapsible baton and a small knife- the latter being more for tactical purposes than fighting.

Philip selected a hatchet and hooked it to his belt. Isobel had the only distance weapon, and he wasn't going to argue for it. It was a fight he'd always loose, and she was a better shot than him anyway. Isobel had a backpack loaded and she was going through a mental checklist:

Food; yes. Weapons; yes. Fire-starter; yes. Map; yes.

"What about these?" Derek interrupted her. He motioned to the canned food still stacked on the walls.

Isobel shook her head; "Too heavy, and we'll need back-up food if we have to come back here. There are more stock-piles Daddy and I have spread throughout Silent Hill, in case I ever got trapped here."

Derek nodded, and stood there awkwardly. "What weapon are you using?" Isobel asked, frowning at him.

"I'm a black-belt," he said, straightening with pride, "I don't need one."

Philip and Isobel shared a look, and Isobel tossed him a baseball bat, which he caught in midair.

"Humor me," Isobel said, rolling her eyes and returning to her pack. Derek deflated.

Isobel began to pull the pack onto her shoulders, but Philip took it. "You've got the gun," he said when she gave him a questioning look; "You need to be able to reach it sufficiently."

"You have the hatchet," she shot back; "You need to be able to move."

Philip offered no explanation, and slid down the ladder before her. Isobel slid down after him, followed by Derek.

A tiny hallway led to a door, and they slipped out into an alleyway. Isobel led the way to the street and flicked on her flashlight. The mist worked like a barrier, cutting off any sound until the creatures were almost close enough to see. When Derek caught up with her, she tossed him the map and said, "You're up."

Derek clutched the map in shaking hands and looked both ways, like a monster was just waiting for him to cross the street. He opened the loud paper and Philip and Isobel kept watch. "Wh- what am I looking for?"

Isobel shrugged, "This is _your _Silent Hill. Where do you wanna go?"

Derek stared at the map, "Which way to the arcade?" he finally asked.

Philip and Isobel simultaneously pointed to the left, and the trio walked down the street. The damp chill slowly penetrated their clothes and left them uncomfortable. The sense of being watched made Philip and Derek nervous, but it made Isobel she feel safe. It was all she could do not to skip through the street and whistle to herself. She finally felt at home again. She almost forgot about Derek. That is, of course, until he started to bump into her back. Constantly. So much for the sense of ease. Isobel shot him a glare after the first few times, and he finally backed off. Philip tried not to laugh. Leave it to Isobel to attract a wimpy stalker.

A few blocks later, Isobel heard hissing. She held her hand up to stop the party, and leaned around the corner of the building they were near.

A screamer was stumbling down the street. Isobel placed a hand on her baton, but Philip put his hand on hers and shook his head. Screamers usually traveled in packs, and communicated with sound. If the first one let out a noise, three more would come running. Isobel raised an eyebrow at him, _got any better ideas?_

Philip pointed to a ladder they were near and Isobel nodded. She climbed up first, followed by Derek and then Philip. They crept slowly from rooftop to rooftop, wincing at every creak. The screamer below never looked up.

When they reached the arcade, they hopped back to the ground from some conveniently placed crates in the back. Isobel and Philip worked to get some boards off a window as quietly as possible, and Derek stood there like a moron. Of course.

When they got inside, Philip tried to re-establish the position of the boards while Derek and Isobel ventured a few careful feet in. Though the lights remained off, the old arcade games flickered to life as soon as Isobel turned off her flashlight. Shadows wavered along the walls of the room, leaving corners in darkness and even making Isobel nervous. She jumped when a game, completely untouched, exclaimed, "WINNER WINNER!" and made clicking noises, no doubt trying to dispense tickets that had long since decayed.

Philip returned to Isobel's side, and they watched Derek as he made his way, mesmerized, to a game much newer looking than the grimy ones lining the walls. The player sat in a booth, drew the curtains around, and put on a virtual reality helmet. There was a screen the player could use for third-person, if they got motion sick, and large plastic pistols that were to shoot imaginary enemies. When Derek was only a few steps away, the game's screen sparked to life, a simple black with white letters:

New Game?

Yes

No

Derek sat down and drew the curtains, obstructing Isobel and Philips view. "Well," Isobel said, when the booth was quiet for a while, "Let's just hope he doesn't kill himself and leave us here."

Philip nodded in agreement, but Isobel was already at the prize counter, searching drawers. When she threw two medical kits and an energy drink away in disgust, it became evident she wasn't searching for supplies.

"What are you doing?" Philip finally asked.

"Looking for scissors," Isobel said, popping back up behind the counter.

"Why?"

"Are you kidding?" She tugged her hair around to the front of her so he could see. A red braid that traveled to the small of her back. "I can't believe I didn't think to look for any at the library. Do you have some? Or a straight-razor? That would work, too. My knife is just not sharp enough."

Philip raised an eyebrow. There was no way he would give her a straight-razor. Even if he had one. "Keep it the length it is," he said. He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth.

"You're going to be very upset when a monster takes a swipe at me and catches my braid. Then I'll die and you'll cry and blame yourself."

Philip's jaw dropped. "How do you know I wouldn't be relieved?"

"Please," Isobel rolled her eyes and went back to searching, "Who would save your sorry butt from the dolls?"

Philip smirked, and let her win.


	3. Chapter 3

Twenty minutes of combing through drawers revealed several med kits, bandages, a stale bag of pretzels, some rubber bands, paper-clips, a blood stained Robby the Rabbit doll, and a dead mouse. There was, without a doubt, no scissors to be found. Isobel sat down in a huff and added the pretzels, med kits, and bandages to her bag. If Silent Hill thought you needed supplies, you probably needed supplies.

"How long is he going to be in there?" she asked grumpily.

Philip shrugged his shoulders, "Patience is a virtue."

Isobel raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? A Silent Hill priest telling me patience is a virtue?"

"I am not a priest; I am just apprenticed to one," Philip sniffed. "There is a difference."

"What would that be?"

_Silent Hill priests hate any and all children of the outside_, Philip thought. He said, however, "Priests have to be present when the god comes for the…what is it? Fifth time?"

Isobel snorted, "I think it was only once. Then they gave up."

"Or died," Philip agreed.

Isobel remained quiet and sat down against the counter. Philip slid down next to her.

"So what was it like outside?" he asked. He knew it was very different, but he never understood how the outside could get along without a cult. Who was their leader?

Isobel shrugged. "It's loud. Noisy. People always yelling or trying to get somewhere. It had its beauty," she remembered the flower shop she'd visit on her way to school, or chocolate ice-cream she ate almost every day. Silent Hill couldn't have those things. "I still like it here better though. This is home. It's where my family and friends are." She smiled at Philip.

"We missed you here," Philip said seriously.

Isobel laughed, "Who? You and Robbie? I didn't have any other friends."

It was true. Philip remembered how they met:

_Philip was in kindergarten, and he hated every second of it. The other kids never left him alone, always teasing him about his glasses, or that he didn't want to join in the torment of stuffed animals. He stopped bringing his little doggie to school after another kid ripped off its leg and burned it. _

_Recess was particularly bad. The teacher s believed he should toughen up, as his mother was head-priest and he would be serving her when he got older. One day, while he was trying to blend into the fence, a girl with two brown braids came up and spit on his glasses. She had followers, a whole group of kids behind her. "Clean it up, lower priest," she said, "you serve me!"_

_Philip took off his glasses and dried them on his shirt. He replaced them and tried to walk around the girl, but was blocked by a fat boy and a blonde girl. "Lick the ground!" the girl with the braids yelled. _

_Philip remained silent and stared at her. He would do no such thing. His face was suddenly buried in the dirt, and his glasses went flying. The fat boy had tackled him from behind. The blonde girl stepped on his head, forcing dirt up his nose and into his mouth._

_"Respect your female better!" the leader said. Philip felt something sharp cut his palm, and his yelp was buried in the dirt. _

_The weight of the fat boy on his back seemed to increase for a moment, and then was suddenly released. The same with the foot on his head. Philip sat up to find the boy groaning and clutching his crotch, and the blonde girl was crying and clutching a bloody nose. The girl with the brown hair was on her stomach, tears streaming down her face as a redhead pulled both of her braids back, like reins on a horse. The scissors the girl had were a few feet away, lying open on the ground. The redhead had her foot pressed to the girls back. "I'm sorry," the girl with braids whimpered to Philip. The redhead pulled harder._

_"I'm sorry!" the girl with braids shouted this time._

_The redhead released her, and left her sobbing in the dirt. She walked away as Philip stared in shock. That was the girl nobody liked. She was technically an outsider, so all of the parents hated her, and, therefore, so did their kids. The redhead came back with a first-aid kit. Every child in Shepherd's Glen knew how to use them; it was one of the first things they learned. The redhead took Philip's hand, and slid an alcohol wipe down the cut without warning. Philip winced, but he didn't pull his hand away. She wrapped it up for him, and when she was finished the girl with the braids was on her knees, glaring at them. The redhead glared back, and the braids-girl looked away first. "Just wait until your body-guards gone," she hissed at Philip, "Then you'll be sorry!"_

_The redhead calmly let go of Philip's hand, and took the scissors off the ground. She then walked towards the braids-girl, who flinched and began to scramble back, "I didn't mean it!" she squeaked out, "I'm sorry!"_

_The redhead smacked the girl across the face, which shut her up and gave her enough time to cut a brown braid from her head. The redhead slipped the scissors in her back-pocket, placed the shocked girl's braid in her lap._

_Philip saw the teachers approaching, finally having realized something was wrong, and, without thinking, stepped in front of the girl, shielding her from view._

_She gave him a confused look, but he knew that if the teachers thought she did it, she'd never get a break. If he took the credit, however, they'd be proud of how tough he'd become._

_Scary logic, but, unfortunately, it worked._

_Or at least it would have, if the blonde girl hadn't screamed, "The girl with carrot-hair did it!"_

_The teachers were too lazy to try to drag the truth out of the kids. What they had to work with were 3 crying children, a girl with scissors in her back pocket, and a boy who was stuttering out lies to them. This is how Philip and Isobel ended up in time-out together._

_The other girls said nothing the entire time, even when they got sent to the corner. Philip tried to talk to her. "Thanks for the rescue."_

_The girl said nothing._

_"What's your name?" he tried._

_Silence._

_"Why won't you talk to me? I'm not going to be mean; I just want to be your friend."_

_The girl finally looked at him, hatred burning in her eyes. "I hate bullies," she said, "That's why I helped. I wasn't hoping to scrounge a 'friend' from the experience. I like being alone."_

_Philip said nothing, and the girl turned back to face the wall. At lunch that day, Philip sat with her. She glanced at him, and then ignored him. She always ate whatever the cafeteria served; some cold hamburgers on soggy buns today. He took out a cookie pack from his home-made lunch, opened it, and wordlessly slid it across the table to her. She glared at him, "I don't want to be your friend," she said._

_He shrugged. "Then be my comrade. I owe you. Protect me from bullies, and I'll share my lunch."_

_The girl stared at him for a good minute, then took a tentative bite of the cookie. Philip smiled. "What's your name?" he asked._

_"Isobel," she said, holding out a hand._

_Philip shook it, "Nice to meet you."_

They ate lunch together every day and, slowly but surely, Isobel opened up to being his friend. His parents hated her, of course, as did the other children, but Isobel never seemed to notice or care, and her easy confidence gave Philip courage. He ignored them as well.

Philip was stirred from his memories by a crash. Isobel shot to her feet and had her baton out before Philip even moved.

"What happened?" she asked Derek, who was picking himself up off the floor outside the game.

"Th-there were these…things- in the game. They kept smiling and trying to stab me. They had razor-teeth and yellow eyes and metal pieces…." Derek trailed off.

Isobel nodded; Prisoner Minions. There were no official 'prisons' in Shepherd's Glen- these monsters only existed in the hell-world, or, apparently, in a video game. "Since you're out of the game, they probably aren't a real threat now, but they might draw more creatures here; we should keep moving."

"Where next?" Philip asked.

Isobel looked questionably at Derek. He opened his hand, revealing a gold token. Carved into it were the words "Shepherd's Cemetery". Derek looked at Isobel, who moaned when she read the coin.

"It just rained in Shepherd's Glen," she said to Philip.

His eyes widened, "Crap."

"Yup," Isobel said, "Lurkers."


	4. Chapter 4

Just as predicted, the scent of rain hung in the air with the fog as they made their way through back alleys and across streets, finally finding the crumbling scores of craters that were called 'Shepherd's Cemetery'. Isobel eyed the shallow pools that had formed in the bottom of the holes. Every few seconds, she could see movement in the black liquid. She wondered if they would attack in a group or try to drag them, one by one, into the muddy water.

Isobel pressed a finger to her lips to silence Derek and Philip, and slowly made her way onto the thin strip of earth between the craters. If the group could make it across completely quiet, maybe they could avoid fights with lurkers all together.

She balanced on the land like it was a tight-rope, and Philip and Derek did the same. They made it to the circle of land in the middle without too much incident, and sitting in the center of the little island was a mausoleum. The doors held a big iron seal, which had a space for a key; the seal was the lock. Stuck over the keyhole was a pristine white piece of paper that seemed to glow in the blackness.

_Come and seek,_

_Where you cannot survive._

_Our protectors are waiting,_

_Take a dive._

Isobel crumbled the paper in her hand. "What's the matter?" Derek whispered.

Isobel looked at Philip. "The Key is at the bottom of one of the pools." Isobel looked around at the craters. There were dozens. This was going to take hours.

"Which-"

"We have to search them all," Philip cut Derek off, "Silent Hill chooses which one. It depends on if it likes us or not. If it hates us, then the key will be in the very last one. If it likes us, we'll only have to look in one or two."

"Why do we even have to-?"Derek started.

Isobel interrupted him this time, "There is no simple way out of Silent Hill. You either do whatever crazy puzzles it throws at you, or you live in the world with the monsters and almost no food for the rest of your miserable life."

Derek let that sink in before asking, "So…we split up?"

Isobel shook her head, "We have to take turns. If we split up the lurkers will pick us off, but we can all defend one if two of us wait."

"Who goes first?" Derek asked. He sounded terrified.

They played rock-paper-scissors. Derek lost. Philip came in second. That meant Isobel would be the last one who had to dive in. Derek kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, revealing a toned chest and stomach. He threw a look at Isobel, hoping she noticed.

Isobel was staring at the water, trying to find patterns to the creature's movements.

Derek looked incredibly disappointed and Philip was doing his best not to laugh out loud. Isobel was used to muscles. Almost every person in Silent Hill had to be strong to survive.

"How do I know when I find it?" Derek asked, stalling.

"It'll shine through the water. You won't miss it if it's in the pool," Isobel answered.

"What are the odds of their not being a monster in this one?"

"Not a chance," Philip and Isobel said simultaneously.

"There's always a monster," Philip explained.

Derek began a slow descent down the slope, but Isobel stopped him, "You'll need this," she said simply, handing him the bat.

Derek took it and made it all the way down the hill.

His feet squished into the mud; every step became more difficult than the last. It was like the dirt itself was trying to swallow him. He could see nothing in the black water. The water was freezing. Derek knew what he had to do. He wandered out into the middle of the pond, until he was waist-deep. There was nothing shining for his attention; he began to slowly make his way back to the edge, praying that Isobel and Philip were wrong, when he felt something hard grip his ankle.

He struggled and tried to climb up the side of the crater, as his flight instincts took over. The creature was visible now; a faceless head with a stitched, black wound down the center. A pale body with soggy flesh. The most terrifying part, of course, was the nails that were at least a foot long, and curved at the end, like hooks.

Derek clawed at the dirt as the lurker let go of him, only to raise the hooked hand back and bring it to a slash across Derek's stomach. Derek screamed.

"USE THE BAT!" Isobel yelled from above him.

The bat? The bat!

Derek swung it with all his might at the lurker's head. His arm shuddered as it met its target. The lurker fell off him, dazed, and Derek scrambled up the side of the crater back to Philip and Isobel. He was panting, injured, and exhausted, but when he expected to see sympathy, Isobel and Philip both looked disgusted.

He was about to ask what their problem was, when they rushed past him. The lurker followed Derek up the side, and raised a claw up to swipe again. Isobel caught the hooks with her baton and Philip chopped the creature's head off with the hatchet. It fell to the ground, not even twitching. Isobel took a health kit from her bag without any words of sympathy and dressed the cut in Derek's stomach.

While Derek tried not to throw up from the pain, Isobel and Philip moved onto the next crater. They'd seen it all before.

They'd grown up here, after all.

Next up was Philip. He walked into the crater without hesitation and searched through the murky water. Nothing glimmered by the time he got to the middle of the pool, but he felt something slimy and cold brush his calf. He didn't even try to hit it; the lurkers were in their element in water. It would be like trying to kill a fish.

He slowly made his way back to the edge, trying not to give any sudden movements. Lurkers liked to torture they're prey- it was the only reason he wasn't dead. When his foot hit dry land, the lurker popped up behind him, screeched, and took a swipe. Philip swung his hatchet with enough force when he turned to chop the deadly hand off. He used his forearm to stop the other hand from scratching him. The claws dug a bit into his skin, but he was out of range of the deadly hooks. He hoisted the creature out and slammed it into the dirt hillside. It let out an ear-splitting cry, and desperately tried to cut him with a hand whose hooks were now sinking into the mud a foot away.

He raised the hatchet again, and cut off the other arm. The lurker's noises became louder. With a final swing, he buried the hatchet in its chest. The creature stopped moving.

Philip freed his hatchet with a tug and trudged up the hillside, covered in muck and black lurker blood.

Isobel nodded to him, took off her shoes, jacket, gun, and bag, then slid slowly down the slope to the third pool. Her brain tried to stall her, but she knew what needed to be done, and she placed one foot in the dark water. The mud was cold and sticky. Isobel took her steps slowly, splashing as little as possible. She went to the middle, same as the boys, and shuddered as the water lapped at her spine. She saw something glinting. All the way on the other side of the pool, almost out of the water, was the key. Of course. If she tried to go back and walk around the edge, the key would disappear back into the water. She had to walk through. She took slow, cautious steps as she felt something cold and hard touch the tops of her bare feet. The lurker's claws.

She refused to think about it and continued. One step at a time. The water reached her navel. She was maybe twenty steps away now. The cold metal claws appeared again, this time at her side, and dragged slowly down her leg, pausing below the knee to hook into the fabric of her jeans. The sound of the material tearing nearly made her jump, but she wouldn't get side-tracked. It was what the lurker wanted.

Lurkers were like sharks, in the respect that if they smelled blood, they went in for a kill. Sure, they toyed with their victims, even let a few live, but if they smelled blood, the hunger took over.

Which is why Isobel panicked when she stepped on something sharp. She tried to shift her weight onto her other leg, so as not to cut through the thick skin of her heel, but the mud that seconds ago had tried to swallow her feet now became slick. She had to stumble forward, causing splashes, and dragging whatever was in the foot with her. Blood was kicked up into the water.

Isobel stood still for a moment, terrified to move.

To Philip and Derek, it looked as if Isobel simply disappeared. One second she was straightening herself, looking around, and the next she was being swallowed by the water.

Isobel felt the claws on her feet, and then she suddenly couldn't breathe. She closed here eyes and tried to kick, but the lurker was pulling her further down. It had its arms around her chest, and was pulling her back into the deepest part of the water.

Isobel tried to struggle, but the beast had an iron grip. Precious pearls of air escaped her mouth, and she wondered if she should give up or fight to the death. The thing pushed her into the murk, and tasted the water, tinted red with her blood. Wait…no… He couldn't eat her.

Isobel felt the creature push her down, and she waited to feel horrible teeth sink into her skin. It didn't happen. She felt something hard pushed into her palm, her back scraped along the bottom of the pool, and then she was being pulled out of the water.

"Isobel!" Philip was saying. He patted her face. She turned to the side and coughed up black water.

"Are you alright? What happened?" His eyes were full of concern. Isobel looked past him to the water. The lurker's pale head was sinking back down into the middle of the pond.

"I'm fine. It just let me go," Isobel said.

Philip frowned. There was no way he heard that right. "What?"

Isobel didn't want to repeat herself (it sounded stupid just saying it) so she looked at the hard metal in her hand. The key. The lurker gave her the key.

"I'm fine," she said again when Philip gave her another look. Philip stood and offered his hand to her. She tried to stand on her own, but Philip reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her to her feet.

She followed him up the slope, where Derek was sitting, clutching his stomach. "I would've helped but…" he let his voice trail off, implying his stomach wound by holding it tighter.

"D-doesn't matt-ter," Isobel said. Her teeth were chattering. She was the only one of them who got completely soaked. Her braid was weighing like an anchor on the back of her skull and grey water was running from her hair into her eyes. The torn leg of her pants left her pale skin exposed to the cold.

Philip draped her dry jacket around her shoulders without a word. Isobel tugged her shoes back on, re-attached the gun holster, grabbed her pack, and said, "Let's g-go."

Philip let her lead the way to the mausoleum and turn the heavy, rusted key in the lock. The key was suddenly yanked from her hand, as if the lock itself swallowed it, and the doors slowly ground open. What little they could see of the hallway was black granite shot through with grey veins. The walls were polished to such a shine that the group could see themselves.

As soon as all three of them crossed over the threshold, the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, and there was a bang as they locked themselves. Any light from outside was cut off, and they were thrown, literally, into a tomb of darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

A note to readers: I swear, there _is_ a reason for all the flashbacks. The monster in this chapter is a boss from Silent Hill: Homecoming. I know she didn't growl.

* * *

Isobel snapped a flashlight on and led the way. What seemed like a tiny little building outside had somehow become an incredibly long, curving corridor that was slowly descending with every turn. Isobel grew bored quickly, tossed the flashlight to Philip, and loaded her gun while she walked. She ignored her sore foot; with every step, the pain seemed to subside a little. Soon she'd be fine.

Their footsteps started off as loud shuffles that echoed off the black walls like white paint, but as they traveled deeper underground, it seemed that there was a barrier, like the fog in the air, that muffled the sound. After about five turns down, their footsteps were noiseless, as was the entire building. Isobel took it as a good sign: it meant they were making progress, rather than walking in infinite circles.

Derek, however, was becoming more and more frightened with every step. Why couldn't they hear anything? This wasn't a natural silence. The darkness in the air was the same. Everywhere Isobel's flashlight wasn't pointed, it was like a black cloud waiting to push poison into his lungs and leach it into his bloodstream. The silence bore down on his head, pushing into his ears. Was that a ringing somewhere? Was that in his mind? What was going on? That shadow, reflected in the black walls- was that supposed to be there? Isobel's light wasn't anywhere near there. Wait! The group! Derek ran to catch up, his slapping shoes soundless.

Philip noticed Derek's panic attack without much concern. Sane people lost their minds in Silent Hill- that was just what happened. If Derek couldn't handle a little silence and darkness, then he shouldn't have followed Isobel.

Philip signed to Isboel, "What a baby you picked out."

Isobel signed back, "Shut up you priest."

Philip laughed (noiselessly, of course) to cover his wince. He didn't really want to be a priest.

Philip remembered when Isobel wanted to learn sign language:

_Philip was ten, and looking for his friend. Isobel disappeared right after class today, and she wouldn't answer her motel room door. Philip's first idea was perhaps she was waiting for him at his window, but she wasn't anywhere near his house. He knew-he'd looked._

_He finally decided on the library, but he searched the entire first floor, to no avail. Only the adults went to the second floor- it was were all the boring books were. Nonfiction. Anything from proper sacrifice to a god to gutter cleaning was up there. Isobel hated nonfiction- she said she got enough of that at school every day._

_Still…where else could she be? After twenty minutes of searching, he found her. She was at a table, surrounded by books like a chick in a nest. She was reading a page from a thick tome in front of her, and taking copious notes in a fraying notebook._

_She glanced up, and she smiled. Philip felt the stress release from his shoulders. He loved it when she smiled. Her whole face lit up._

_"What are you doing?" he whispered. Adults in Shepherd's Glen looked for any excuse they could to berate Isobel; friendship with him helped, but not as much as he'd like._

_"I'm going to learn sign language," she whispered excitedly, "I can teach it to Daddy so he doesn't have to scratch in the dirt or use his voice."_

_Philip's eyes widened, "He can talk?"_

_Isobel nodded, "He doesn't like to, because the words sound like metal scraps in a blender, and he said it hurts his throat real bad."_

_Philip nodded, and Isobel returned to her work; she was painstakingly copying down the gestures in the pictures. The library was closing soon; people wanted to be home before it got dark. Isobel wasn't allowed a library card, because the adults said the motel room she lived in didn't count as a good enough address. Philip thought it was stupid._

_"I can help," he said, gathering as many books as he could carry in his arms. Isobel hopped up, practically bouncing with relief. She hadn't been looking forward to doing this every day._

_Isobel hugged him, whispered, "Thank you!" and grabbed the rest. They made it downstairs without dropping a single book, and they pushed their tower onto the check-out counter. The librarian behind the counter, an older adult woman with brown hair and black eyes, tapped her pencil against the books. "You have to put all of those back, young lady," the woman sniffed at Isobel. Isobel's face fell._

_"What?" she asked.  
"You don't have a library card, remember?" the woman smiled cruelly. "I'm certainly not going to spend my evening cleaning up the mess you made."_

_Philip frowned. He hated it when people made fun of Isobel. The children at school had learned better, but the adults seemed to be worse, and Isobel couldn't do anything about them._

_"Actually," Philip said, stepping around the books to be visible, "These are mine. She was helping me carry them."_

_The librarian dropped her pencil and immediately began to scan the books. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled._

_Philip shot a smile over to Isobel, who was beaming at him._

_They carried the books in bags to Philip's house, and Philip took the front entrance while Isobel climbed up the lattice to his room. His parents weren't home yet, (they usually worked late), and he let Isobel in to practice with him. They spent hours signing to each other and laughing when they got a word wrong. Philip told Isobel to stay the night, since it was dark by that time, and she agreed. There was no reason not to; she spent more time at his house than her motel room, it seemed._

_Philip left to get food for them to share, but when he crept downstairs, he found his parents in the front room. They were still dressed in their robes, and were playing chess. "Darling!" Philip's mother said, jumping up to clap her hands, "We've missed you! You spend more time in that room than with either of us."_

_Philip resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Where was this sudden concern coming from?_

_"We need you to come with us to the church," his father said simply._

_Ah, good ol' dad. Always straight to the point._

_"Can't" he said simply, turning to go to the kitchen, "School stuff. I'm busy."_

_His father clamped a cold hand on his shoulder. "This is more important," his father said. His voice was like steal. _

_Philip knew that if the resisted to firmly, Isobel would be found out in his room._

_"Fine," he said, "let me go change-"_

_"No need!" his mother trilled, "We have your clothes at the church. Your old ones are too small anyway."_

_Philip's heart sank as his parents led him out the door. He hoped Isobel wouldn't wait for him too long._

_Isobel fell asleep on Philip's bed, and woke up at about five in the morning when she heard someone tripping up the stairs. She hid under the bed quickly (because that was always where she went when Philip's parents came to his room). To her shock, Philip stumbled in and dropped onto the bed above her with a heavy thud._

_"Isobel…" he whispered._

_Isobel crawled out and closed the door. She sat next to him. He was pale and his eyes were bloodshot. A small drop of red trickled out of his nose, and Isobel used a piece of notebook paper to wipe it away._

_"What happened?" she asked._

_"Blood…ceremony…" he managed. "I'm so sleepy…_

_Isobel pulled his shoes off and covered him in his comforter. She slept on the floor while he recovered from the church.  
_

* * *

After a few minutes (or hours, if you were to ask Derek), the hallway's finally stopped at another large, red wall. There was a hand print in the middle. Isobel motioned for Derek to put his hand over it, but nothing happened. Isobel stood closer and examined the print. It was too small for a man, with long, slim fingers. Isobel put her own hand up to the print. It glowed red for a moment, then she felt a burning. Isobel let out a silent hiss and jumped away. There was a black Halo of the Sun etched on the back of her hand, like a tattoo.

Isobel didn't have any more time to inspect the symbol, however, as all three in the party jumped at the sound of growling.

_What the hell was that?!_ Derek shouted. Or at least he tried, anyway. The party still couldn't speak. Isobel and Philip began to sign again.

"What do we do?" Isobel asked.

"I think we should go back," Philip said.

"To the monster?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Isobel pulled the pocket knife out of her bag and pricked her finger before Philip could stop her. She traced a bit on the stone where her hand was and a siren sounded, over-lapping with the growls of the monster.

"Great idea," Philip said, out loud this time, as the floor began to crumble underneath their feet and the shrieking of metal began to sink into their ears.

"How was I supposed to know that was gonna happen?" Isobel asked. "Besides, look." Isobel pointed to the wall, which was now disintegrating. The growling grew angrier and closer. Philip, Isobel and Derek darted into the new hell in front of them.

They were in a huge underground cavern. A maroon ceiling stretched above them, out of view into a cloud of blackness, like the stomach of a giant monster. Below them the sound of water echoed, and Isobel could barely make out the metallic reflection that suggested the top of water. They were on a metal bridge made of what looked like chicken wire. There were no railings or handles to grip. They could only walk along and hope not to fall into the chasm.

Isobel clenched her hands into fists. She didn't like caves. It was unnerving, in her opinion, to be in tombs underground, created naturally, that the earth could swallow any minute. Red lights showed at the end of the bridge, illuminating a dark hallway of stone. Isobel kept her eyes trained on it and began to walk. She ignored the roaring of the water and the sound of the monster behind them. One step at a time, she made progress. Derek was behind her, and he grabbed the back of her shirt to guide him. She didn't even notice. Philip followed suit behind Derek.

They were about halfway across, when the bridge below them suddenly shifted and dipped. Isobel dropped to her knees while it was still stable and dug her fingers into holes in the wire. The boys did the same. She glanced back. The creature had climbed onto the bridge, and was making its way to them. It wasn't as careful as they were, and the bridge twisted and jerked as it moved, as if trying to shake the teenagers off.

Isobel had never seen this one before. It had four spider legs and a lady's body hanging between them. It was about three times as tall as Isobel when it wasn't hunching over.

Isobel looked forward again and began to crawl forward as fast as she could. It was difficult; every time the creature took a step, she had to stop and dig her hands into the wire so as not to drop off the bridge. She was about five feet away when there was a loud snapping sound. Isobel scrambled forward and fell onto solid ground. Derek did the same. Philip, however, wasn't as close as the other two and could only make it a few feet further before the bridge fell.

Philip clung to the wire and braced himself as he slammed into the wall of the cave. The creature below him shrieked, and began to climb the now vertical bridge. Philip tried to climb with his hands only, as the chicken-wire didn't have foot holds, but his fingers bled after about a few seconds. His arms burned. He looked back to see the monster was almost on him; her long legs made covering distances simple.

He braced and closed his eyes as the thing reeled back a sharp claw to slam it into his back.

_BANG!_

The blow never came. He looked up; Isobel was above him, aiming her gun at the creature. From Philip's vantage point, and the look he could see on her face, all he could think was that his angel of death was furious.

The monster was frozen in shock. Isobel shot it again, and it began to flail and cry. On the third shot, it fell down into the blackness below. There was a splash.

Isobel holstered her gun and offered her hand to Philip. He grabbed it, but was hesitant; he weighed more than she did- he could easily pull them both over instead of her pulling him up.

Derek, however, noticed this as well, and reached out to help. With their combined strength they pulled Philip into the little stone hallway. Philip was on the floor, trying to get his breath back, when Isobel squeezed his chest so hard in a hug, he thought she'd break a rib.

"Don't scare me like that!" she said, releasing him and punching him in the shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

The long stone hallway they were in led to a chamber with more grating for a floor and a raised platform at one end. There were two doors behind the platform (the kind that rose dramatically instead of swinging in or out), and a red stone table on the platform itself.

There was a normal door across the room from the platform. When Isobel looked behind her, the archway they'd come in had vanished, leaving nothing but a dirty red wall in its place.

Derek went to check the normal door, but Isobel didn't bother. She knew it would be locked. Philip was staring at the stone table. "What is it?" Isobel asked.

"This looks familiar…" he said. He tried to go through the dozens of occult books he read. "These symbols on the sides," he pointed to etchings in a language that made little sense to Isobel, "They read 'Father to claim the life of the child of hate.' I know I've seen this before. I just don't know where."

Isobel brushed her fingers along the stone, and the sound of screaming echoed in her ears. "Please!" a woman shrieked, "No! Kill me, please!"

Chills went down Isobel's spine as she realized she knew the voice. Her mother.

Philip saw Isobel grow pale as she removed her hand from the table. "Are you alright?"

Isobel blinked. Just an echo; that's all that the scream was. Her mother was gone."Fine," she threw a fake smile to him, and turned to observe Derek examining the door.

Not too artistic for the other-world; a heavy wooden door with no knob. Philip ran his fingers over it, and the door began to twitch. He pulled his hand away, and the door opened on its own.

Isobel raised an eyebrow at Philip. "I've got nothing," he said, leading the way out the door to the stairs beyond.

The stairs led straight up for a while, and the entire party quickly grew out of breath. Isobel lost count at a hundred and fifty steps. When she looked behind them, all she saw was blackness. "Are we making any progress?" she asked Philip.

"None that I see," he called back.

Isobel turned and walked down into the blackness. Sure enough, there was a door about five steps down that opened into a small wooden shack. The muggy heat and shriek of metal melted away as soon as she stepped into the room. This was the way out of the hell-realm.

Isobel called to Philip and Derek, making sure to keep the door open until they made it through. She really didn't want to lose anyone, especially back in that world.

The shack was full of tools- shovels, drills, axes, and several boxes of garden equipment. Isobel opened the door to find a street covered in fog. Barely visible across the road was a tall grey building, and a lit sign above the door that read, 'Hospital'.

There was a feral pawing at the ground right in front of the hospital, and a screamer was stumbling towards them.

"I call the feral!" Isobel said. She ran to it without waiting for a response. She and the feral circled each other, and she watched his jaw drip blood in anticipation of food. It lunged suddenly, and Isobel dodged. She spun on her toes, bringing the baton in an arc over the feral's head. It shook off the blow and jumped up at her, closer now. She stepped back and knocked it in its jaw on the way down. It lunged again, this time managing to sink its claws into her forearms. She snapped her leg forward, delivering a powerful kick that left it stunned on the ground. One final blow to the head with the baton, and it was dead.

She spun around, giddy with adrenaline, and Philip was just killing the screamer. Derek was being as useless as ever.

She motioned for the boys to follow, and they approached the strangely bright lights of the hospital.

Isobel raised a hand to the revolving door. The glass was warm. She shared a look with Philip. They all squeezed into one little portion of the revolving door, and the air around them lost its damp chill. The lobby was lit. A nurse was sleeping behind the counter.

They were back in the 'normal' realm.

Isobel rang the bell on the counter, and the woman jumped awake. "Yes?" she was blinking drowsily.

"Is there a 'Derek' somewhere in this hospital?" Isobel asked.

The woman grabbed a clipboard from the counter, and frowned. "Section D. Three floors up," she said simply.

Derek walked in the direction of the stairs, and Philip and Isobel tried to follow him.

The woman at the counter held out a hand, "Sorry," she said, with a practiced smile, "Visiting hours are over."

Philip sat on one of the chairs, and Isobel did the same. Sure, they could've muscled past the lady, but Silent Hill wanted them in this room. So in this room they stayed.

The woman behind the counter was fully awake now, and she was typing away furiously on the computer in front of her. Occasionally she would glance up at Isobel nervously, then look at the clock. Isobel didn't notice; she was checking her bag and looking her gun over. She'd gotten evil looks and glares her whole life. They didn't even register anymore.

Philip did notice, however, and he didn't like it. After ten minutes fidgeting in his chair, he got up to ask the nurse what her problem was. Just as he did, a doctor walked down the hallway on the left.

He had brown hair in a buzz cut, brown eyes , and a yellow shirt. For some reason, the way he smiled and nodded to Isobel put Philip on edge. He practically had _trust me_ written on his forehead.

"Miss Isobel?" the doctor asked.

"Uh, yeah?" Isobel asked from her chair. She was re-loading the magazine of her pistol.

"I need you to come with me for just a quick check. Won't take but a minute," he gave that teddy-bear smile again.

Isobel frowned. Thank god. She didn't like him either.

"I'd prefer to wait for my friend, Dr…?" Isobel replied politely.

"Asher," he said, "Dr. Asher. I promise your friend is in good hands. I just need to check something. Please come with me."

His smile was gone, and he was becoming insistent.

"No, thank you, sir," Isobel said.

"Are you refusing to cooperate?" asked, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Yes; why should I-" Isobel began, right before she felt something sharp sinking into her arm. She hissed and pulled away. The nurse from behind the counter was holding an empty syringe.

Philip ran at the nurse, but he was caught from behind in an inhuman grip. Dr. Asher pulled him backwards to an open door. Philip kicked and fought, but he might as well have been hitting a wall for all the good it was doing him.

"What the hell…?" Isobel managed. She stumbled out of the chair, and fell to her knees. The tranquilizer hit her like a punch to the face.

The nurse smiled kindly, "We won't take long."

threw Philip across an empty room connected to the reception area. Philip slammed into the opposite wall. He tried to get his breath back and struggled to his feet. The door slammed and a lock clicked into place.

Isobel watched as Philip was tossed like a rag-doll. Whatever these people wanted, they had the church as backup. No way could a normal person throw a man like that.

The nurse dug her hands under Isobel's arms and hoisted her up into a wheelchair. She pushed her down the dark hall, away from Philip and her bag. Her bag had everything. Food, water, her weapons. She was completely on her own. Dr. Asher caught up with the nurse halfway down the hallway. His unnerving smile was back.

Isobel couldn't move, but she was conscious. She listened to the conversation between the doctor and the nurse.

"Sorry about that," Asher said, "He's grown into quiet the man. Didn't think he'd put up that much of a fight."

"That sweet boy down there really cares for you," the nurse said, patting Isobel's shoulder and smiling at her again. It was like they were taking a nervous child in for surgery, not an unwilling teenager who was drugged beyond motor skills

"He's going to be upset with his mother," said, shaking his head.

"He already hates his mother," the nurse said, shrugging her shoulders, "What more could Cathleen possibly do?"

Isobel was wheeled into a room looked like it had been dipped in white. A fluorescent light hung from the ceiling and a huge mirror covered almost an entire wall. The sour scent of disinfectant made her want to gag. The nurse and doctor lifted Isobel into a chair with leather straps on the armrests and legs. Isobel's head hung forward limply on her neck as she felt herself get locked in place.

A woman with strawberry blond hair and an old fashioned nurse uniform walked in, pushing a cart full of shiny surgical tools.

_Lisa! _Isobel thought. Lisa was an old haunt of silent hill. She still looked 23, even though she would be about fifty by now. Lisa took care of Heather when she was little, and was always very friendly to Isobel. Isobel tried to shout to her, but all that came out was a moaning sound.

Lisa stared at Isobel with a broken-hearted expression, and then bit her lip and looked down. "Will that be all, sir?" she asked the doctor quietly.

"Yes, Lisa," there was obvious disdain in 's voice, "You may go."

Lisa couldn't have left the room faster if a feral was chasing her.

Isobel stared at the tools. A couple oddly shaped scalpels, a pair of scissors, white gauze, and something that looked like a pen. No bone saw. No drills. Maybe they weren't going to torture her.

Dr. Asher picked up the pen and pulled Isobel's head back by her braid. His breath hit her face. "Let's start with that pasty skin, shall we?"

So much for that theory.

* * *

Philip gave up throwing himself at the door after the fifth attempt didn't even splinter the wood.

There was a window, but bars crisscrossed over it, making escape impossible that way. There was nothing in the room, not even a chair. The walls were covered in finger paintings. Giant, grey suns smiled down on grotesque creatures and people covered in red. This must have been a day-care for children of Shepherd's Glen at one point.

After a few more minutes of searching came up fruitless, Philip collapsed on the floor and punched the wall in frustration.

"Darling, how many times must I tell you to control your temper?"

Philip whirled around to face a smiling woman with greying hair and maroon robes. There were wrinkles near her eyes, and her teeth were yellow.

The door was open behind her. Philip ran for it, but the woman kicked it closed before he made it a few feet.

"Mother," Philip began, trying to sound reasonable, "Please let me out. I need to find a friend."

"Isobel?" Philip's mother sniffed disdainfully, "You know dear, I swore she left the town months ago. Why on earth would she be back?"

Philip bit his tongue. His mother hated Isobel; she'd tried to undermine their friendship throughout its entire existence.

"There's an outsider. We're just helping him pass through," he tried.

"Oh, right," Cathleen shook her head, "That boy. He's just listening to a re-telling of his childhood. You know how long that can take."

Cathleen stood there, smiling like a skeleton, until Philip said, "What do you want, mother?"

"I just want to talk," Cathleen placed her hands behind her back, "Can't a mom just want to talk with her child?"

Philip wrinkled his nose. The word 'mom' was way too familiar a term to describe their relationship. The way she was leaning against the door and rocking on her toes like she had all the time in the world told Philip he wasn't getting out of here until he humored her.

"How's dad?" Philip tried.

"Silent and stoic as ever," Cathleen replied. She said nothing else.

Philip grew impatient. This was the kind of game she wanted to play? He had to guess topics until he was able to read her mind?

"How are people in town?"

"Oh, just fine. You know, Ashley missed you at school today."

Ashley was the braids-girl from kindergarten. She'd taken an interest in Philip, probably because of his powerful family history, but Philip couldn't care less.

"How's the church doing?" Philip asked.

Cathleen's eyes lit up. Jackpot.

"Everything is disorganized since Isobel came back; you know, I actually need your help with a ceremony to put everything back in order. Do you think you could help?"

Philip's nails dug into his fists. This wasn't a suggestion. He knew if he agreed, he'd be in a verbal contract with his mother- Silent Hill would make him honor it.

"I'll consider it," Philip said.

Cathleen's smile fell.

Suddenly, a scream of agony breached the stained walls of the room. Philip recognized the voice immediately.

Philip's mother stepped out of his way as he attacked the door. He practically broke the knob off before slamming himself into it again.

* * *

Isobel had screamed when brought the pen-shaped tool up to her chest and pushed down the button on top. An impossibly long needle shot out and pricked her heart. It went from slow on the drugs to hyper-speed. She was in control of her motions again, and got her senses back.

She yanked and fought against her restraints as the doctor took his time to pull the needle out. Inch by painful inch.

"Needed you awake for this next part," he said, winking.

* * *

"I was hoping you'd give me an answer," Cathleen was saying behind Philip, "After all, you'd hate to keep them waiting- I've told them to take her to a different room if we weren't finished in ten minutes. You," she checked her watch, "are right at nine and a half."

Philip glared at his mother, and another scream ripped at his nerves. What the hell were they doing to her?

"Fine!" he said, "I'll help with the ceremony. Now open the damned door!"

The door clicked and Philip took off down the hallway.

He knew Isobel wouldn't yell as loud as she was unless she was in immense pain. Every door he'd checked down the hallway was locked, and the cries seemed to be getting further away with every step.

He bolted to the staircase, but paused when the noise started echoing off the walls. Should he check from the roof and go down? Or the basement? He took the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor, and found Derek watching a projector with a scared look on his face. The sound was up here, too. It was like it was embedded in the air of the building.

"Come on!" Philip kicked the projector off the table, and it crashed to the floor.

Derek jumped up and blinked away the fog in his brain.

"Is that Isobel?" he asked, frowning at the voice that was growing disturbingly weak.

"Yes! Help me find her! Check this floor," Philip said, and was back on the stairs before Derek was out of the room.

Philip just arrived on the the third floor landing when the screams cut off.


	7. Chapter 7

A note to readers: I don't own the song 'You are my sunshine'.

* * *

Isobel woke with a start in a room painted a soft green. The sheets enveloping her were a similar color. There was cream-colored furniture spotting the floor- desk, bookshelves, and a dresser. A poster with a picture of a ninja was stuck on the wall next to a picture window. She slid out of bed slowly. She wasn't restrained. No drugs weighed down her movements. She was wearing fuzzy purple pajamas.

Isobel made her way slowly out of the room, and down a hallway with wooden floorboards. An ornate railing and carpeted stairs led down to the unknown. Blue, flowering wallpaper stretched out on either side. She noticed frames on the walls, holding pictures of a smiling family. Before she could examine too, closely, however, she heard singing from downstairs.

_You are my sunshine,_

_My only sunshine,_

_You make me happy,_

_When skies are grey,_

_You'll never know, dear,_

_How much I love you…_

Isobel froze for a moment, then raced downstairs without hesitation. That was her mother's voice.

"Mom!" she shouted, nearly slipping on the floor.

She found a modern kitchen, with Heather standing in the middle, humming and scooping scrambled eggs onto a plate. Her hair was brown, scraped lazily into a ponytail. She wore a blue sundress and moccasins.

Isobel hugged her as tightly as she could. "Mommy," she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Sweetie," her mother said, putting down the plate and wrapping her arms around her daughter, "Did you have another nightmare? I told you, fever will do that. Are you feeling better?"

Heather backed up and put a hand to Isobel's forehead. "You don't feel warm," she said, shaking her head. "Why don't you eat for me? You've been sick all day."

"Mommy," Isobel didn't know what to say. Her mother was dead. She knew it. But Heather was right here, smiling at her with hazel eyes that mirrored her own.

"Come on, darling," her mother gave her a kind smile, "Eat up."

One look at the food made Isobel's stomach churn. She ran to the bathroom she passed in the hallway, and threw up in the toilet.

She rinsed her mouth out in the sink. When Isobel looked in the mirror, she squeaked and jumped back. Soft brown hair. Skin with pigment. She wasn't a pasty redhead anymore. She looked… like Heather. She'd always had her mother's eyes, but now they were looking out a face with color. Faint rose on her cheeks, a healthy tan…even freckles dotted her nose.

But the hair was wrong. Isobel fingered a lock, confused. Heather's hair was darker and course. Isobel's was soft and thick.

She heard someone at the front door, and ran to answer it before mommy could. Something felt very wrong here…

A man with a triangular mask was standing in the doorway. "Daddy!" Isobel threw her arms around his neck and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, something she recognized.

"Hi, baby," the man chuckled, "How are you feeling?"

No…that wasn't right. Isobel backed away. Vincent stood before her, adjusting his glasses and grinning. The mask from before had disappeared. Vincent's brown hair was swept to the side of his head. Soft, thick brown hair. _Her_ hair.

Vincent lost his smile, "What's wrong, Bel? Are you getting sick again?"

He reached out a hand to touch her arm, and she yanked herself away. No. This was wrong. Where was her Daddy? What was his name…? Triangle? No. Something Head. Or Face. Was it Face? Isobel's thoughts refused to stay on track, and she tried to shake them into order.

"Isobel," Heather sounded concerned. "What's the matter?"

Isobel clutched her head. "This isn't right," she said, backing away from them both.

Vincent reached for her again, and she tensed. He drew back, looking hurt, and Heather wrapped her arms around Isobel's shoulders. "You've been out of it all day, sweetheart," she began, "Why don't you go back upstairs and rest some more? Philip said he'd be by later with things from school today."

Isobel backed away from them slowly. She walked as calmly as she could up the stairs, and tried to clutch at the thoughts floating behind her eyes. Silent Hill was her home. Wait…Silent Hill? Like the expression about people going through their own silent hell? Maybe the name was wrong….

Isobel stopped at the top of the staircase to examine the pictures that hung on the wall. She saw herself, small and happy, on Vincent's shoulders. They were at a carnival. Chocolate ice cream dripped out of the cone in her tiny fist.

Isobel thought back. She remembered the ice cream. Rich, cold, it would disappear all too quickly. The smell made her mouth water. Chocolate was her favorite. But the fair? She tried to think. A bit of broken music and people in animal costumes. But the thoughts were jumbled, and felt…artificial. Like someone had taken a can of color and sound, and thrown it into her head with a sick _plop!_

Isobel giggled and pushed the thought away. Why couldn't she focus? More pictures, but none of them sparked any recognition. She and her mommy were on a couch, asleep, books open in their laps. Isobel was on a park bench somewhere, making a fish- face at the camera with lips stained from the Popsicle in her hand. A boy with black hair sat next to her. She didn't recognize him at all. Perhaps he was just happened to be in the photo?

Isobel heard someone coming up the stairs, and she bolted to her room, closing the door. She really didn't know how much more strangeness she could handle. Was this all a dream? When would she wake up?

She wanted to go back home….home? Wasn't this her home? It looked like home. Sure, there were no feelings of home, but maybe she woke up from a strange dream- the kind that leaves you senseless and disoriented.

To calm her nerves and still her disturbing thoughts, Isobel went to her closet. She opened the door and her jaw dropped. She'd never had this many clothes before- why would she need them? She washed her clothes every week, and most of her outfits were cut for survival- cargos, boots, comfortable black t-shirt. Why she needed survival clothes, she couldn't remember, and trying to think about it was making her head hurt…

She shied away from the pain and instead assessed the clothes here. There were at least a hundred. She reached out a hand and felt the material. Comfortable and soft…but pink.

She blinked and realized what she'd been touching. A pink dress. Isobel wanted to gag- she hated pink. Happy with a task, she began to search her closet, throwing anything pink she could find into a pile on the bed. What started as a way to pass the time, however, quickly turned into a way to vent frustration. She began to rip clothes from the hangers, delighted to hear the tearing of seams, and throw them across the room into a puddle of fabric that was growing too fast.

When she found herself out of the disgusting color, she took to the pile on the floor and began to look through it. She selected a beautiful dress, with mother-of-pearl coloring shooting through the pink bodice, complete with a flowing silk skirt. She took a pair of scissors from the desk and cut the dress slowly down the middle, relishing every snip. When the dress was in two, she attacked it again, and again, until all she had was a mountain of soft confetti.

Finally feeling calm, Isobel dropped the straight razor on her desk and collapsed in her bed, ready to sleep.

Wait. Straight razor?

Isobel snapped back up and stared at the desk. A bloody blade sat where she'd dropped the scissors. The pink puddle that used to be a dress was stained with red at her feet.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened.

Isobel glanced at the man at the door, then looked back at the floor. The red was gone. It was shreds of fabric. The scissors were only scissors.

Isobel sighed gave the boy at the door a more detailed look. He was the boy from the picture in the hall; he was taller, but had the same face and black hair. "Can I help you?" Isobel asked.

"Just got your stuff from school," he said, frowning, "You alright? You don't look good."

Isobel shook her head, "I thought Philip was bringing it over?"

The boy was giving her a concerned look. "Issy, it's me. I _am_ Philip."

Isobel scooted away immediately. That was _not_ Philip. She knew. While all the other memories seemed to fade, his wasn't budging. It was like the image was stamped to her brain. Green eyes behind cracked glasses, blonde hair that never cooperated, and a smile that was far too kind for how he grew up.

The man in front of her, whoever he was, took a step in. "Issy, come on."

Isobel stayed on the edge of the bed, staring at him. She hated pet names. Philip knew that. "Get out of my room," she said quietly.

Not-Philip took another step in. He was only a few feet away. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Do you want me to call Dr. Kaufman?"

Isobel shook her head and stayed away from him. "Get out!" she said. She grabbed at her night-stand and threw the first thing she could grasp at Not-Philip. The pencil bounced pathetically off his shoulder.

Isobel blinked and looked at her hand. She was very strong. She _knew_ she was. She had to be. As she evaluated her small hand and the arm it connected to, however, she noticed her muscles were missing. She was mostly bone, with a thin layer of fat to make her soft.

She jumped when she looked up. Not-Philip was much closer now. He was also, she noticed, much bigger than she was.

"Something wrong?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed. She was between him and the wall. Isobel was trapped, and defenseless.

Or maybe not…

Isobel was across the room and clutching the scissors in an instant. "Stay away from me," she said, holding the scissors like a dagger.

Not-Philip raised his hands in a sign of submission. "What are you going to do?" he asked. He truly sounded sad. There was no fear, no curiosity. Just complete sadness. All for her.

"I'm going home!" Isobel said. _You can't. This is home. This is real. Silent Hill was a bad dream…_

She shook the little voice in her head away and slowly made her way to the doorway. When she was sure Not-Philip wasn't going to move, she ran down the stairs and out the front door. No fog. No monsters. Just the annoying sun and picket fences. Everywhere. As far as she could see, there were cookie cutter houses. Everything was disgustingly, disturbingly, annoyingly…

Plain.

Isobel dropped to her knees and stabbed the scissors into the ground. She didn't fight when she felt a syringe prick her neck, and just let the tears roll down her cheeks as Not-Daddy and Not-Philip carried her back to the house. With every step, memories came flooding back. The town, the church, the streets, the monsters. Her mother.

Isobel was taken to her room. She closed her eyes and prayed to wake up back home. She wanted to open her eyes and see a nurse. She wanted to jump up and relish in her hard-won strength as she killed it. She wanted to feel the fog cooling her hot skin, and smell the perpetual rain as it calmed her nerves.

More than anything, she wanted to see Daddy and Philip again.

So she went to sleep, and hoped she woke up from this nightmare.


End file.
